


Conflict of Trust

by FanGirlFascination



Category: Justice League (2017)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 12:21:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17960417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanGirlFascination/pseuds/FanGirlFascination
Summary: Adrienne is Bruce Wayne's lover and Barry Allen's best friend. They don't know about each other. But when Bruce starts looking for The Flash, Adrienne is forced to make a desicion.She's torn between her loyalty to Bruce and her protectiveness of Barry.She know's Bruce has a secret.She's fairly sure...she knows what it is.





	Conflict of Trust

Adrianne spun aimlessly in the high back chair, staring at the ceiling. Internally she was cursing the ostentatious nature of the entire office. She knew dating Bruce meant having to get used to being around a certain level of elegance and wealth, but this was pointless! As far as she was aware Bruce was very rarely in the office. When he actually deigned to turn up at Wayne Enterprises, his time was taken up by running from meeting to meeting. Other than that, the running of the business tended to be left to Lucius Fox. So why, for the love of Gotham, did Bruce need the biggest personal bar she had even seen outside of a club!

The polished wood and marble surfaces glinted mockingly, reflecting the light streaming through the window wall behind her. Full bottles of the most expensive alcohol in the world defied her glare by remaining in their shelves. The different crystal tumblers shimmered like new despite probably having sat on their shelves for months without ever being used. She only thought months, not years because she didn’t put it by Bruce not to replace them every year. 

The bar was only the tip of the iceberg of obvious wealth on display; ‘abstract’ paintings that no doubt cost more than her entire flat and everything in it adored the walls and pointless statues that seemed to consist of random shapes littered shelves.

Wayne manor was impressive, no doubt, but everything felt more natural. The love and care Alfred put into maintaining the home was obvious and made the whole manor feel warmer than the office she was currently waiting in. Clearly this entire office was designed for the sole purpose of ‘impressing’ anyone that got to have a meeting with Bruce in here.

The desk was nice. She had to give him that. Her initial instinct upon sitting in his chair had been to kick her feet up on the surface, but the warm dark wood stopped her. It was definitely the oldest thing in the room. Sturdy and well used, Adrianne could make a fairly good guess who this desk originally belonged to. 

Turning her attention to the rest of the desk, she ran her eyes over the various papers, diaries and pens strewn across the surface. Bruce must have been halfway through working on something when he was called out for the meeting that Wendy, his secretary, had informed her he was attending. As she challenged herself to make sense of the numbers on some of the papers, her eyes swept over a single scrap of paper hidden in the melee of official documents. 

Her heart clenched, her eyes sharpened, and she leaned forward trying to make sense of what she was reading. 

It was an address. In Central City. An address she knew.

What in seven hells was Bruce Wayne doing with Barry Allen’s address?

Suspicions that she had buried deep in her mind tried to fight to the surface, only to be firmly stamped down. She reminded herself exactly why she wasn’t thinking about her theories, but that didn’t solve the problem of Bruce having an address he shouldn't have.

She reached out a shaky hand, desperate to but not quite daring to pick up the paper. If she could just take it, destroy it and hope Bruce didn’t remember it, maybe she could give Barry enough time to run. Her fingertips curled around the edge and she lifted it a few inches off the desk.

The sudden sound of voices on the other side of the door forced her to withdraw and the paper slipped out of her grasp, fluttering back to the desk as she glued herself to the back of the chair trying to affect an uninterested air.

She couldn’t help but smile slightly as she heard Bruce’s deep voice rumble a thanks to Wendy just before the handle of the door turned and he appeared through the doorway. Her smile transformed into a full blown grin as she raked her eyes over him. They had been dating for eight months but he still took her breath away. 

Bruce was handsome and he knew it. He walked like a man who had been used to being admired his entire life. She’d seen pictures of a young Bruce Wayne before… clearly he just got lucky in the gene lottery. He may work hard on the impressive muscles that were not very well hidden underneath his tailored three piece suits, but no amount of money in the world could buy the natural good looks his dark hair and warm hazel eyes afforded him. He was categorically distracting.

Bruce shot her a sheepish grin as the door clicked shut behind him.

“Sorry sweetheart,” he apologised, striding across the room towards her, “I was-”

“Caught up in another boring, unexpected meeting,” she finished, reaching up to grab his tie and pull him down to kiss her,“I know. Wendy told me.”

Bruce smiled and kissed her again. Adrianne happily took the opportunity to thread her fingers into his hair and pull him closer. Bruce rested one hand on the arm of the chair as his other wrapped around her waist and dragged her towards him. She giggled and slapped his chest gently knowing from experience how situations like this normally ended up. Bruce chuckled and dropped her the few inches he had raised her back into the chair. She pouted playfully at the loss of his strong arm supporting her.

“It’s a good look on you,” he nodded, “the boss’s chair.”

“Please,” she rolled her eyes, “I couldn’t spend all day in here. It’s a tad…” she nodded pointedly at the offending bar across the room, “… pretentious.”

Bruce reeled back, holding his heart in mock hurt.

“Wow. That hurt.”

“Freak,” she muttered fondly, “Seriously Bruce, does impressing your partners really take a massive, pointless bar that you never use?”

“It helps,” he admitted, smirking at her. 

He always did find her exasperation at the opulent nature of his life amusing. 

“Tell me, do you buy new glasses every six months, or do you give them the full year to sit on the shelve unused?” she quipped, jutting her chin out in mock provocation.

“Don’t be silly,” he winked, “they’re changed quarterly.”

He cut off her mock outrage by grabbing her hands and pulling her up off the chair and into his arms. Her indignation dissolved into giggles as she returned his kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck. She was grateful for Bruce’s arms around her waist as he dragged her up his body so she drew level with his 6’4” height. Bruce had many skills, and kissing was definitely one of them. She moaned as his tongue sought out hers and returned his teasing strokes. Trusting his strength to hold her up, she allowed her hands to start exploring down the impressive muscles of his arms. Adrianne had a slight obsession with Bruce’s muscles and he certainly didn’t seem to mind. 

“Lunch?” he asked, when they separated enough to be able to draw breath. 

“Of course,” she shrugged, “It’s not like I came here for your sparkling conversation,” she snarked, then yelped when he dropped her.

He grabbed her hand and dragged her out the office, humming placatingly as he half listened to her insistence to take her casual outfit as a sign of what type of restaurant he took them to.

“I swear Bruce if you pull up to another 5-star steel trap I’m not getting out the damn car!”

Through her tirade she threw one last glance back at the paper on the desk, slowly formulating a reluctant plan B in her head.

****************************************************

Shallow as it seemed, one of the things in Bruce’s billionaire life Adrianne appreciated was the massive king-sized bed. The feather soft mattress and Egyptian cotton sheets contrasted deliciously with Bruce’s hard body and rough skin as he moved above her. She dug her nails into his back and pressed herself up against him. She tried to make her hips listen the rhythmic signals her brain was sending but her system was being overloaded by Bruce’s powerful thrusts that drove the breath from her lungs. The scent of his sweat and cologne flooded her system as she buried her face into the crook of his neck, licking and nipping at what skin she could find there. The nips of pain seemed to spur Bruce on as he suddenly reared back onto his knees, dragging her up with him to sit on his lap.

Again, her sense of rhythm let her down and she couldn’t get the co-ordination in her legs to allow her to move the way she wanted. She felt Bruce grin against her skin as he interpreted her desperate whimpers correctly and she weakly thumped his back in retaliation. Bruce responded by gripping her waist tightly and lifting her up before slamming her back down, causing her to choke out a moan as he pushed further inside her than she thought possible.

Bruce continued taking control of their movements, alternating between using his impressive strength to lift her or simply snapping his hips up to drive himself deep into her heat. All Adrianne could feasibly do was make a concerted effort to tighten her pussy around him, desperate to help him reach his climax, to make up for the two he’d already given her that day.

Eventually, Bruce’s rhythm stuttered as well and she drew on the last vestiges for her strength, forcefully commanding her legs to push her weight up, aided by her hands bracing on his strong shoulders. Her movements were clumsy but effective in their goal, as barely a minute later Bruce clutched her to him, pinning her forcefully down on his shaft as he released his climax into the latex that covered him. Taking advantage of her own aroused state, Adrianne frantically ground her hips down into his pelvis until she joined him in bliss.

By the time she came back down to Earth, Bruce had flopped them both back down to bed, disposed of the condom and was softly placing kisses over her face. He chuckled when he saw her grin.

“Are you back from those stars yet?”

“If it wouldn’t be such a huge sacrifice for me, I would deny your ego the satisfaction of confirming you’re that good,” she gasped, still trying to draw air into her lungs.

“Amazing,” Bruce teased, “still so articulate when you’re sex drunk,”

“I’m a writer,” she quipped “occupational hazard.”

A few more lazy kisses were exchanged before the post-sex haze lifted from them both to allow a clearer mode of thought.

“Speaking of writing…” Bruce started, rolling to the side and allowing her to curl up to his side “who are you trying to get for your next interview?”

“Humphry Dumpler.” she said.

“Humpty-Dumpty?” Bruce said, surprised.

“That’s mean,” she chided, still drawing deep breaths, “I’m hoping to get answers as to why his grandmother was allowed to get away with her abuse for so long. Social services, the GCPD, even the neighbours… as far as I can tell, there was never a real investigation.”

She appreciated the predicted silence that followed to allow her breathing to fully regulate back to normal. She suppressed a small smirk as she waited for Bruce to try and, tactfully, form his counter argument to her frequenting Arkham’s halls. She felt his arms tighten around her.

“I still don’t like you going up there.” Bruce muttered, deciding that simplicity was the best tactic.

“Bruce, I’ll be fine.” She kissed his chest, stroking his abs soothingly, “Dumpler is supposedly very well-mannered and I won’t be near the other inmates. The guards at Arkham are getting better now that Boles and Sharp aren’t there. Plus, I almost always manage to make sure Cash is around. He’ll make sure I’m safe, I promise.”

“You’re still determined to interview the Joker?” Bruce asked, tensing slightly.

“No,” she shook her head, noting Bruce relaxing again, “Joker may be fascinating to watch but he’d be pointless to interview. Better people than me have tried. Unless I had a good angle, all I’d succeed in doing would be to make myself feel bad by listening to him.”

“Good, I really don’t want you near him,” Bruce sighed, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“I’m not giving up on Riddler though,” she patted his chest and attempted to roll out of the bed to go to the bathroom. 

She almost succeeded gracefully but still had to grip everything secured to the walls or floor to assist in walking in a straight line. She heard Bruce groan in frustration and turned back to him, uncaring of her nudity.

“I’m a crime writer, Bruce,” she reminded him, pointedly. 

“I know,” he nodded, “I guess Riddler isn’t so bad. Could be Killer Croc or Scarecrow.”

“Nuh-uh,” she shook her head, “Cash still won’t go near Croc and I’d have to have Batman himself standing next to me before I felt brave enough to confront Scarecrow.”

She tried to be subtle as she looked at him when she mentioned The Dark Knight, but Bruce simply smiled indulgently.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you wanted an interview with him as well.” he smirked.

“No,” she smiled fondly at his surprised expression, “I respect Batman for what he does for this city. The younger guards at Arkham worship him and even the older guys respect him, even if they don’t like him. But he’s better off working in the shadows, better to keep focused on people like Gordon and his crew. Once we make it clear that GCPD can follow a good example and do their jobs right… maybe Batman can finally … stop.”

She didn’t wait to see Bruce’s reaction, but turned to complete her journey to the bathroom. Maybe the speech was too much. She didn’t want to play her hand too quickly, but she was getting tired. Either her hunch was right, or she’d fallen firmly into the realm of total paranoia. 

She shook her head firmly and finished her business, giving herself a firm and silent ‘Stop It!!!’ speech in the mirror. She padded back into the bedroom. Bruce hadn’t moved from his position in the bed but he did smile warmly when he saw her.

The smile turned into a slight frown, when she started to pick up her clothes from their temporary home on the floor.

“What are you doing?” he asked, sitting up straighter.

Adrianne mentally braced herself.

“I told you, we should have gone to my place,” she said, focusing intently on clipping her bra back on, “I’m getting a train in the morning, I can’t miss it.”

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“Metropolis,” she answered, firmly ignoring the pang of guilt as she looked directly into his eyes… and lied.

“Come back to bed.” Bruce insisted, sliding out of the bed much more gracefully than she had managed, and coming over to make it his mission to get in the way of her getting more clothes on her body, “I can take you to the station in the morning, you’ve got clean clothes here and you won’t have to travel home this late at night.”

“It’s ok,” she giggled, trying and failing to wrestle her jeans out of his grip, “Batman will save me!” 

Bruce rolled his eyes and tugged the jeans away from her, tossing them back to the floor before he scooped her into his arms and deposited her back on the bed.

“Or you can stay in bed with me, not needing saved at all. Then we can have fantastic morning sex in the shower, have a great breakfast, make out in the car and then you can run like crazy for the train you’ll only just catch.”

“You’re ridiculous.” she muttered, running her fingers through his hair as he pinned her body to the bed.

“But persuasive,” he pointed out confidently. 

“…Fine!” she heaved an overly dramatic sigh, smiling as Bruce dropped himself to the side and maneuvered them to resume their previous position. 

In truth, he hadn’t needed to fight very hard to get her to stay, she was more than grateful for the extra time with him. Adrienne was very aware that her planned mission tomorrow had the potential to destroy everything she had built with Gotham’s beloved son.

Plus, she was very tired. Falling asleep in his arms was hardly a chore.

****************************************************

“So lemme get this straight…” Barry started, walking slightly ahead of her as they navigated through Central City, “…You came here to warn me about the man you are currently sleeping with but, according to you, he’s not a bad guy?”

“He’s not!” she insisted, rolling her eyes at the sass dripping from Barry’s voice.

“Ok, I need to be careful…why?”

“It’s complicated,” she muttered, “…please Barry, just trust me on this.”

“Ri, you know how weird this looks, right?”

“Yes Barry, but surely that means you should be concerned!”

“If you don’t trust this guy, why are you sleeping with him?” Barry asked as he led her through an abandoned lot.

“I do trust him!” she insisted, “but if I’m right about who he is, then I think he’s going to ask you to do something stupidly dangerous.”

“Who do you think he is?” came the inevitable question.

Adrienne bit her lip and looked to her feet. She felt Barry glance back at her, noting how she refused to meet his gaze.

“Alright,” he shrugged, “if you won’t tell me, I won’t push.”

“I promised to never lie to you.”

“But you won’t tell the truth.”

“…I want him to trust me enough to tell me. If he found out I told people before I officially knew?… That trust can never be earned back.”

“If you’re right,” Barry added.

“If I’m right,” she agreed.

“Well, what can you tell me?” he asked, “where did you meet him?”

“Sort of how I met you,” she answered, “his company puts quite a bit of money into Arkham Asylum and I wanted to interview him about it. We went for coffee. Simple as that.”

“Oh, that reminds me. Dad says hi, and he loved your new article,” Barry said.

“I’m glad he liked it. Your Dad is actually really helpful when I’m trying to get a new perspective,”

“So, what’s the guy’s name?” Barry asked.

“Barry,” Adrienne started warningly.

“Ri come on! I’m so confused here,” Barry whirled back to her, “you say you trust this guy, but you have to warn me against meeting him. You’re telling me to run, but you won’t tell me exactly what or who I’m running from! You say you care about him, but you said you lied to him about coming to see me-”

“What would you prefer Barry?!” she snapped, “An ‘oh don’t worry I’m just going to meet the guy I know you’re looking for so I can tell him to get as far away from you as possible!’?”

“But why are you doing that when you say you trust him?! I don’t understand!” Barry snapped back, “please explain it to me!”

Adrienne took a deep breath, reminding herself that Barry probably really didn’t get it; she was asking him to abandon his city, his father and not telling him why. She reached out and took his hand, tugging him forward so they were walking side by side again.

“It doesn’t make sense Barry,” she admitted, “all I can tell you is that you and Bruce are two sides of my life that I want to protect. I don’t want to lose either of you.”

“Oh! His name’s Bruce, huh?” Barry muttered, slyly.

“Shut up,” she growled back. 

Bruce was a common enough name. The fact Barry hadn’t immediately concluded it was Bruce Wayne, especially after she told him that he owned a company that poured money into Arkham Asylum, was a good thing. But Barry was very clever and once his brain extracted itself from the emotional web it was currently attempting to untangle, he may very well make the connection.

“So… by protecting me from him?” Barry prompted.

“I hate that I lied to him today.” Adrienne admitted, swallowing a lump in her throat, “but I didn’t know what else to do. Short of confronting him directly, this felt like my best option.”

“Why didn’t you confront him directly?”

“…I’m scared,” she murmured, “It’ll dig up things I’m not sure we’re ready for.”

“The trust thing?” Barry guessed.

“Yeah,” she agreed, “I’m sorry Barry, I wish I could explain it better.”

Barry just hummed in acknowledgment, allowing his head the time to try and make sense of her words in his own terms. Linking her arm with his, Adrienne tucked her head against Barry’s shoulder and allowed their walk to continue on uninterrupted.

Finally approaching Barry’s warehouse, she let go of him and allowed him to lead the way, ducking under broken fences to eventually get to the heavy steel doors. Taking one last glance around her, Adrienne followed Barry through the door and winced subtly at the sparks that spewed from the fuse box as he threw the switch that lit up the room.

“You need to get that-” 

Her admonishment of Barry’s dangerous electrics died in her throat as both she and Barry stopped dead at the sight of the man sitting in the high-backed chair in front of them.

Adrienne’s pulse pounded in distress.

“Barry Allen,” said the man, ignoring her presence, “Bruce Wayne.”

Adrienne didn’t listen to Barry’s response. She willed her feet to take her to the nearest chair before her legs gave up on supporting her weight. It was all happening so fast and she was powerless to stop it. She was now, truly, terrified.

She could only watch as Bruce handed Barry a piece of paper, asking for an explanation. From Barry’s response, she guessed it must have been a picture of him. Probably how Bruce tracked him down. She couldn’t look at Barry though. All her attention was demanded by Bruce. 

He was so calm.

Allowing Barry to ramble on in denial of his identity in the picture, Bruce calmly turned away from him, hands casually in placed his pockets, not caring for any potential threat Barry might pose. He was enjoying their floundering, using the shock of his presence to gain the upper hand. Adrienne tensed as Bruce approached the Flash suit, eyeing it with professional curiosity.

“I know you have abilities,” Bruce cut Barry off mid-ramble, “I just don’t know what they are.”

Barry, ever the conversationalist, proceeded to list off his resume of skills that everyone in the room was now aware Bruce had no interest in. A point Bruce proved by again cutting off Barry’s speech.

“Silica-based quartz sand fabric, abrasion resistant, heat resistant-”

“Yeah, I do competitive ice dancing,” Barry told him, as Adrienne dropped her head in despair at the lame excuse.

“It’s what they used on the space shuttle to prevent it from burning up on re-entry.” Bruce said pointedly.

“Bruce,” Adrienne interjected, desperately, as Barry backed up his excuse.

“I do…very competitive ice dancing,” 

Bruce seemingly ignore them both and turned away again. Adrienne stood up once more as Barry continued addressing him.

“Whoever you’re looking for, it’s not-”

Bruce spun around and threw something at Barry so quickly Adrienne barely had time to scream.

However, she needn’t have worried. She knew that.

Barry, The Flash, the fastest man alive, of course caught the object.

Adrienne stared in amazement at the evidence of her suspicion was held up by her equally amazed friend.

“You’re the Batman?” Barry asked, rhetorically, as Adrienne took the batarang from him, inspecting it herself. 

The metal was smooth and heavy. A dark steel grey weapon designed for fast, effective takedowns. She should know. You don’t become a crime writer in Gotham City without seeing Batman’s handy work at least once. It was also an exact copy of the one she had hidden at home. Found by a fluke after investigating a closed crime scene a year previously.

“So… you’re fast.,” Bruce said back, prompting Adrienne to finally look back at him.

Seriously? No acknowledgement of the bombshell he’d just hurled, literally, at them?

“That feels like an over simplification-” started Barry.

“I’m putting together a team.” Bruce interrupted him. 

Barry stopped talking and Adrienne’s heart finally failed its fight to stay afloat. This was it. The reason Bruce had tracked Barry down. And deep down, she knew Barry would instantly accept this offer. Bruce had, likely unknowingly, said the key word.

Team.

“People with special abilities,” Bruce continued, intent on selling this proposition, “you see, I believe enemies are coming-”

“Stop right there,” Barry interjected happily, finally getting to cut Bruce off for a change, “I’m in.”

“…You are?” Bruce asked, seemingly confused at the willingness and enthusiasm Barry made no effort to hide. Clearly he had expected more of a fight from the speedster.

“Yeah,” Barry insisted, “I need… friends.”

Adrienne signed heavily as Bruce blinked in confusion. She gently slid the batarang back into Barry’s grasp and moved past Bruce to take up his vacated chair. She smiled wistfully as she watched Barry attempt to explain to a baffled Bruce Wayne, a rare sight in itself, how he saw the world. Bruce, to his credit, appeared to at least get an inkling of the boy’s social dilemmas.

“People are… a little slow,” Barry finished, awkwardly.

“I’ll try to keep up,” Bruce promised, and Adrienne was slightly pleased to hear Bruce apparently smiling.

“Can I keep this?!” Barry asked, jumping gear back to excitement as he held up the batarang again.

“Barry,” Adrienne said, before Bruce could answer. 

She couldn’t allow the conversation to move ahead. Barry looked at her questioningly, almost worriedly, like he was concerned she’d take the prize away from him. Bruce too, finally, turned towards her.

“Go and get your pizzas. Bruce and I need a minute.”

“Oh! Oh, sure I- wait…” Barry paused, glancing from her to Bruce, and back again. She could practically hear the puzzle blocks slamming into place. 

“…Bruce?!” he pointed at the millionaire, still looking at her. “This is your Bruce? Bruce Wayne?! Oh my god I-” Barry cut himself off again as he finally understood the reasons for her actions that day, “yeah… Yeah, I’ll go. I’ll just-”

“Barry.” she called again as he turned to leave, “Walk.”

Barry nodded and, after stuffing the batarang in his pocket, left the two lovers alone to deal with the fallout of the last ten minutes.

Adrienne picked up the remote at her side and shut off the screens blaring K-Pop at the two of them. If this was gonna be her breakup with Bruce, she didn’t appreciate that as the soundtrack. 

“So…” she started, completely unsure of the direction to take the conversation. What issue to tackle first. After a moment of silence, with no help from Bruce, she eventually settled on the simplest one.

“Batman, huh?” she finished, mentally kicking herself for sounding so dumb.

“I know you’re not surprised.” Bruce says, taking a step closer, watching her reactions, “you’ve known for a while.”

“Suspected.” she corrected, automatically. 

Bruce cocked his head and raised an eyebrow at her.

“Honestly, Bruce,” she insisted, leaning forward intently, “I didn’t want to know. No, I mean… I did, but…” she trailed off and broke eye contact, unsure how to explain it to him.

“I know,” he said, drawing her attention back to him.

Her brows furrowed in confusion as she watched him cross the room and smoothly lift her backpack from where she had dropped it upon her entering the building. Walking back towards her with the back in hand, he smirked somewhat sheepishly before detaching something from the strap and tossing it to her. She caught it.

“You bugged me?” she questioned, unsure on how to feel as she looked at the small circular disc in her hand, “when?”

“This morning,” he admitted. 

Her heart clenched at the thought. That morning had played out exactly as Bruce had predicted. She recalled wrestling her bag away from him and trying to dodge his kisses and she insisted she’d be late for the train. Was that when he did it? Or had he used the few minutes he had before joining her in the shower? Or the final kiss before she dashed out the car into the station?

How could he have acted so carefree that morning when he knew something was wrong?

“You knew I was lying,” she croaked out, clenching her jaw.

“Yes. I knew whatever was bothering you had to have happened in the office. You were distracted through lunch. When Alfred discovered Barry visiting his father in prison, well…”

“My name was on the list too,” she nodded in understanding, “you figured if I knew Barry and saw his address but didn’t ask you about it, then I had something to hide.”

“Not necessarily,” he said, “but I admit, when you lied about where you were going today, I got worried.”

“I’m sorry Bruce.” she said, trying to force to the lump in her throat.

“Hey,” he said gently, kneeling down in front of her, “I’m not angry.”

She looked at him, shocked.

“How can you not be? I lied to you. I suspected you! I trust you with my life and yet I came all the way here to warn Barry to run away from you! I doubted you!”

“And I deserved that,” Bruce said, “all of it. I lied to you too. I knew you suspected but I never asked or showed you the truth. I knew you knew Barry, but I never asked you about him either.”

“So why today?” she asked, “What changed?”

“The enemies I spoke of?” he prompted, “They’re bad. Real bad. Other dimension, alien bad.” 

“You’re forming a team of people with super abilities that have more of a chance against unknown forces?” she guessed.

“Yes. with Superman out of the picture, the earth is left undefended from larger threats.”

“You’re trip to Iceland,” she started, and Bruce smiled at her deductions, “you were recruiting the Aquaman?” 

“You know of him?” Bruce asked.

She blushed heavily making Bruce frown subtly.

“”Well…” she started, clearing her throat and avoiding his gaze. “when you live in Gotham City… when… you… grow up with tales of… superhero’s… a superhero… it kind of… makes you want to pay attention to others,”

By the end of her explanation, Bruce’s smirk was back in full force.

“Shut up!” she mumbled, “I had a tiny crush on the Batman, sue me. I was a kid. You’ve been doing this a while, you know.”

“And the Batarang you keep in your flat?” Bruce asked smugly, ignoring the weak jab at his age.

“How the hell did you find…? Never mind, I don’t want to know.” she pouted.

“Well I’m glad that’s why you know of him.” Bruce said, proudly.

“Stop it,” she admonished, “you’re a bat, not a peacock.”

She looked at him fondly; the smug smirk, the subtle age lines beginning to mark his features, the flecks of silver hair beginning to show through the brown. Honestly, for doing twenty years as Batman, Bruce looked great. 

She raised her hand to trace over the silver at his temple.

“So I’m forgiven?” she asked.

“Am I?” he countered.

“I cheat on you with Barry, you cheat on me with Batman, so we’re both equally bad people and therefore deserve each other?” she reasoned, before grinning, “I can get behind that." 

Finally, Bruce leaned forward, granting her the kiss she never thought she’d taste again. His hair felt soft between her fingers and she relished the feeling of the calluses of his hands on her skin. She reveled in the knowledge that she could now officially acknowledge the oddities for what they were. The scars and wounds, the rough hands, the late nights and the periods of brooding that seemed to come out of nowhere. This other life Bruce led took its toll, and now she could be there to help. 

It was up to Bruce to end the kiss because she was not willing to stop. When eventually he succeeded in pulling back she was pleased to see he looked just as breathless as she did. Smiling at her one last time, he ran his hand through her hair. She tilted her head back, sighing in pleasure as he placed one kiss into the side of her neck before completely pulling away and standing back up.

“Barry will be back soon,” she said in verbal agreement to his distance.

Pushing herself off the chair she began to move around the warehouse with a degree of familiarity. She located Barry’s duffel bag and began to look out anything she might deem worthy of his trip back to Gotham with them. Clothes, books and a couple of toiletries all got thrown towards the bag before she began browsing the case files he had stacked in the corner, in case he might want to look through them during a quiet moment.

“Look in the box over there and pack him some snacks.” she gestured, not looking at Bruce.

“You know this place pretty well.” he commented casually, following her instructions.

“Hmm,” she hummed in agreement. “I interviewed his father a year back for an article. He mentioned Barry.”

“His father’s imprisoned for-” Bruce started.

“He didn’t do it Bruce,” Adrienne cut him off, looking back to him briefly, “Barry has spent his entire life, since he was nine, trying to find a way to prove that his father is innocent. He saw what happened. Stupid shrinks kept up the ‘traumatised delusions of a heartbroken child’ excuse.”

“He’s smart?” Bruce asked, as he browsed all the books that littered the shelves. 

“Could have gotten into any top school in the country if he’d tried. Everything in this place Barry designed and built himself, including the suit. But he didn’t want to leave Central City. His father, Henry, is worried about him. Keeps telling him to move on with his life.” 

“But he won’t.” 

“No. He wants to find the real killer, exonerate his father and get justice for his mother.”

“And? Where do you come into it?” Bruce asked, sitting next to her as she began packing everything neatly into the bag.

“When Dr. Allen talked about Barry, he lit up. So I asked more. Then I staked out at the prison for two weeks till I got a hold of him. We started talking. He told you himself; he wants friends. I’ve been keeping an eye on him. Visiting when I can, sending him money, even though he protests, making sure he’s eating and trying to caution him against taking on anything too dangerous.”

“So me asking him to-“

“It’s his choice Bruce. Just…,please take care of him.” she asked, satisfied when he nodded. She didn’t need a verbal promise.

“So you’re his-”

“Best friend.” she nodded, before looking at him suspiciously, “…Bruce?”

“Hmm?” Bruce tried to adopt an innocent expression but he knew exactly where her mind had jumped to. 

“Were you… worried? About Barry and me?” she ventured.

Bruce appeared to start on the sarcastic denial route but changed his mind. Adhering to their new-found mutual honesty.

“Well, when your girlfriend lies about going to see another man. A man that seems to be very important to her, closer in age-” Bruce uncharacteristically rambled, this time avoiding her eyes.

“You dummy,” she muttered, placing herself directly between his legs and tilting his head to meet her eyes, “you know I don’t go for younger guys.”

Bruce nodded, clearly beginning to feel uncomfortable. 

“Bruce Wayne,” she sighed, unable to hide a grin, “jealous of a younger man.”

“Alright,” he huffed, but returned her grin none the less.

“Come on.” she said, before kissing him deeply. “The quicker we get home and deal with this, the quicker you can take me to bed. I’ll make you feel worthy again, old man.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked, still grinning as he held onto her waist. She pulled out her phone to text Barry to come back, “I thought you were against stroking my ego?”

“I stand to gain from it this time,” she smirked, kissing him again before stepping out of his grasp just as Barry arrived with a gust of wind and a lighting crackle.

He was holding a pizza box.

“Pack your suit. I didn’t want to touch it,” she told him. 

She blinked and the mannequin was suddenly empty.

“How many pizzas have you had already?”

“Four,” Barry replied, eyeing the two of them, “So… you guys…?”

“We’re good,” she spared him the awkwardness.

“Four pizzas?” Bruce asked.

“Oh yeah! You see…”

Adrienne tuned out of Barry’s explanation of his appetite. She knew it already. Instead, she focused on making sure they had everything they would need. She opened the snack box, in case Bruce hadn’t accounted for the increased dietary needs of a speedster, and grinned.

There, sitting in the box, was a roll of crisp clean notes. Probably more than she made in a year.

Bruce could be cute sometimes, although he’d grumble if she ever told him.

She nodded at the room, satisfied, and followed the men out to Bruce’s car. Barry was still chattering away as she locked up the warehouse behind them.

“It’s like this layer of dimensional reality, and it seems to manipulate space-time. I call it the Speed Force,” Barry told Bruce through a mouthful of pizza.

“It’s why he’d already processed who you were by the time he caught the batarang,” Adrienne added as she dumped both her and Barry’s bags behind the seats, “seriously Bruce? The Merc? You couldn’t have brought something bigger?”

“It’s just till we get to the plane,” Bruce shrugged.

“I can run?” Barry offered.

“Nah, get in,” she prompted, “it’ll be hidden. I’ll just sit on your lap.”

“Won’t we get in trouble?” Barry asked.

“Only if you get pizza sauce over my car,” quipped Bruce.

“Then he’ll just buy another one,” retorted Adrienne, taking the pizza off Barry and prompting him to get in.

“How many people are on this special fight team?” Barry asked, changing the subject from his imminent demise over pizza sauce.

“Three,” Bruce answered, “including you.”

“…Three?” Barry squeaked as Adrienne’s eyebrows nearly met her hairline, “against what?”

“I’ll tell you on the plane,” Bruce said, as they finally got settled in the car. 

Adrienne settled on Barry with the pizza box in her lap. 

“What are your superpowers again…?” Barry asked Bruce as Adrienne snagged a slice of pizza for herself.

“I’m rich,” Bruce answered simply, levelling a deadpan look at them both.

“Is that why you can only afford two car seats?” Adrienne asked, smirking as Bruce shook his head and started the engine.


End file.
